


Untouchable

by wrightworth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Crime Fighting, Gen, M/M, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, criminal informant, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-05-24 19:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14960660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrightworth/pseuds/wrightworth
Summary: Tony Stark: billionaire, playboy, genius, and criminal.All of that changes when he's arrested by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and meets Agent Rogers.





	1. The Storm on the Sea of Galilee

        He was untouchable. For every step the Federal Bureau of Investigation made, Anthony “Tony” Stark was twenty steps ahead. The task force assigned to Stark’s case dubbed him Iron Man, because he seemed to be protected by an indestructible barrier. Despite his lengthy list of allegations, Stark had never been formally charged with any crime. He was suspected of having over twenty stolen artworks and being the owner of a street racing/underground gambling ring, the sponsor of a drug cartel, and the head of the Stark crime syndicate. While, in one way or another, all of that held _some_ truth- rumors in the criminal world tended to get out of hand- he walked without a sweat. He was a free man. Every attempt to charge Anthony Stark with a crime led to twenty other suspects, and it was always one of them that was guilty.

        Stepping out of his jet black Rolls Royce Phantom, Tony found himself in a muddy puddle. He stared at his shoes, cursed underneath his breath, and looked to his driver holding the door open.

        “Really, Happy? A lil’ warning would be nice, y’know.”

        Tony Stark grinned as he stepped out of the slosh and onto the pavement. Truly, he didn’t care about the state of his shoes. Happy knew this- the pair of Ferragamo dress shoes would later be cleaned, signed, and shipped off for charity auctions as per usual. Anthony Stark was a king; no kings wore shoes more than once. He pat Happy on the shoulder as he strolled towards his destination: Stark Industries- the headquarters of Tony Stark and his empire- loomed over the Manhattan concrete jungle. Opening the glass door, a security guard waved as he entered, and Mr. Stark nodded in return and headed towards an elevator.

        Waiting for the elevator, a tall, redhead woman paced to his side and remarked, “You’re late again. You _had_ a meeting at nine, but seeing as it’s ten thirty... the client got annoyed and left. He looked busy; he said he had to be somewhere else.” In confusion, he tilted his head as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Opening up his calendar, he realized he _did_ indeed have a meeting at nine with a person labeled as “Businessman.”

        “He wasn’t that important anyway. Don’t worry about it, Pepper. It’s his loss,” Tony added after a moment of consideration, “didn’t he want to do something about redesigning the buses? He probably doesn’t have anything that our scientists don’t already have.”

        Interrupting the two, the elevator opened with a loud ring. The pair stepped inside as Pepper Potts, Tony’s right-hand woman and assistant, sighed, “...that’s your twelve o’clock appointment. Look at the calendar again.” She pulled her boss’s phone out of his pocket and handed it to him, with the schedule already open.

 **_TODAY:_ ** 9:00 Paint | 12:00 Businessman | 1:30 Lunch w/ Pep & Hap | 4:00 Car

        Staring at the calendar, Stark’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to recall the event. Suddenly, it hit him and he sighed.

        “Oh. Yeah. The Degas painting I wanted. Right. At nine. Today.” Tragically, it was an important errand that needed to be addressed.

        “You’ve been waiting for…” Pepper scoffed, “JARVIS, how long has Mr. Stark been waiting for ‘Paint’?”

        “Hey you can’t use my own techn--”

        “Mr. Stark has been waiting for eight months, twelve days, three hours, five minutes, and twenty-six seconds for ‘Paint.’ He expressed this int--”

        “Okay, that’s enough. Shut up JARVIS,” Tony murmured, “He’ll be back. Call Paint’s contact and let him know that he needs to be here tomorrow, Pepper. Call me tomorrow, too.”

        She rolled her eyes as she opened her phone to book the appointment again, and to set a reminder to call Anthony Stark one thousand times so he would not mess up.

        The doors of the elevator opened, and the two walked out of the elevator. Pepper, dialing up her contact to reach ‘Paint,’ waved to her boss as she strut away with her heels clicking across the tiles. Tony walked to his office and sank down into his chair, having his own business to attend to before he had to listen about buses for an hour. He turned on his computer, scrolled through emails, sighed, and turned it off. He couldn’t be bothered. Instead, he opened his desk drawer, pulled out some tools, and a large metallic arm. It seemed to be a part of something greater, but nothing in this room alluded to its identity. Using his tools to tweak with the wiring and shell, the arm whirred quietly as he worked. The forearm of the device was a shiny red with a golden upper arm. With one glance, any passerby could tell that Tony spent many precious hours on it, and it was true; he loved to tinker with the arm among other strange, metallic parts in his free time (or, when he wanted to avoid reading emails).

        Unfortunately, his fun was cut short.

        Without announcing herself, Pepper entered his office with eyes widened- a mix of fear and confusion showed on her face. “I can’t get in touch with Paint’s representative,” she said, perplexed, “the number won’t go through. I tried three other contacts of his, and it’s not working.”

        Placing his gadget down, Tony stood up from his seat and reached for his assistant’s phone. It was a flip phone used to deal with his _other_ business; the venture he did “just for fun.” Glancing at the burner, he hesitated for a moment before dialing ‘Paint Contact.’ Holding the phone to his ear, his eyes traveled to Pepper, who nervously tapped her foot.

        The number automatically dialed and Tony heard a dial tone.

        “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel that you have reached this recording by an error, please check the number and dial again.”

        He tried again.

        “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel that you have reached this recording by an error, please check the number and dial again.”

        Tony’s legs began to shake. Something was not right. He opened the burner’s contact book, clicked until he found ‘Contact Paint,’ and dialed once more. The phone went through the usual beeps.

        Almost immediately, he heard, “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in ser-.” He hung up.

_This can’t be happening._

        Without bothering to try again, he flicked to the next, a contact labeled ‘Paint Rep,’ and dialed.

        “We’re sorr-.”

        He didn’t bother to listen anymore. Tony shut the phone, and proceeded to hand it to Pepper, but stopped short. He instead snapped it in half, surprising Pepper, and tossed it into a microwave near his desk that was _usually_ meant for heating leftovers. With a loud pop, the burner melted, and Tony dropped the remains into the trash.

        In a quiet, shaky voice he murmured, “We need to go.” Almost immediately, Pepper understood. _They_ knew.

        Grabbing a dusty briefcase, Tony began to walk out of his office, and down the emergency stairs with Pepper alongside him. They moved hurriedly and finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Opening the door, the two entered a parking garage and rushed to Stark’s Rolls Royce. Tony fumbled with his jacket as he grabbed his keys from his pocket, and his finger landed on the unlock button as a booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

        “FBI! Put your hands in the air!”

        Dropping his briefcase and keys, Anthony Stark put his hands in the air. Pepper Potts did the same. All around the pair were vested officers with the letters ‘FBI’ printed all over their uniforms. Forgetting his most important meeting of the week, and meeting the Federal Bureau of Investigation in one day was crazy. The guns held directly at the two didn’t exactly make the situation any better.

        “Great outfits. Didn’t want to see them today,” he muttered underneath his breath. Pepper looked to her boss, somewhat irritated at his joke, but seemed to share the same thoughts about the unexpected visitors.

        “Kick your keys and your briefcase towards us, Mr. Stark,” a booming voice declared, as he was forced to oblige. Kicking his expensive briefcase to the officers made him cringe, and he scoffed as he kicked his keys along with it.

        “What exactly am I being held up at gunpoint for?” he huffed, with red-tinted glasses hiding his eyes that shifted back and forth between each officer. He didn’t recognize any of them. _At least there’s no one I recognize,_ he thought to himself.

        As the FBI agents collected the keys and briefcase, inspecting it thoroughly, a blond man with body armor stepped forward. “It’s for the safety of our agents, Mr. Stark. We need to be sure that you pose no threat to us or anyone else,” he declared, as he stood tall. Tony tried hard not to crack a joke because really...what could an unarmed billionaire like him do? Throw hundred dollar bills at the FBI to give them paper cuts? He was harmless, and there was no evidence to suggest he was guilty of any crime or posed any threat.

        “Do I _look_ like I can harm anyone? I’m just trying to take Ms. Potts out to lunch and a nice--”

        “...We have evidence that suggests that you have violated Title 18 of the United States Code. Specifically, Section 688, Mr. Stark,” the agent interjected, “so please, Agent Barnes? Agent Maximoff?” He gestured towards Tony and Pepper, and with the movement of his hands, two brown-haired agents came up to arrest the two.

        Crossing her arms, as to block the agents from detaining her, Pepper tried to elude arrest. However, the cocking of several guns stopped her from protesting. The two submitted, and they were loaded into an unmarked vehicle and driven out of the Stark Industries building.

        As the car left the parking garage, Tony mocked the blond agent as he murmured, “What the hell is ‘Title 18 of the United States Code…specifically section 688?’ Does it look like I know? Who does that smartass think he is?”

        The brown-haired woman driving, who Stark assumed was Agent Maximoff, bluntly said, “I suggest you don’t mock Supervisory Special Agent Steven Rogers, Mr. Stark.” She looked at him through the rearview mirror, her eyes seemingly glowed red in anger.

        “ _Whoa_ there. Supervisory Special Agent?” Tony grinned, almost forgetting that he was in big trouble, “They got the big guns out for me. Wouldn’t expect any less. Unfortunately, before Steve talks to me, I need to use my one call to my lawyer, Legal.”

        From the passenger seat came a chuckle, one that was cold and creepy. It made Tony shiver. The male agent, which was Agent Barnes by Tony’s deductions, sneered, “You’ve been watching too much TV. We don’t do that here, pal. This is the real world.”

        With that, reality struck him. He was no longer the cat in the game of cat and mouse. As the concrete jungle flew past him in the tinted FBI car, Anthony Stark was silent.

        He wasn’t untouchable anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! `7`)/
> 
> Story info: 20 chapters (give or take), updated twice a month, always beta-read, not taking requests  
> Chapter title reference: Rembrandt's painting, still not found.  
> My beta readers: [Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonhelo), [Jadene](http://twitter.com/lilnokomis), [Alexandra](http://twitter.com/enfysdaisy)  
> I wouldn't have been able to write this without my beta readers! Thank you to all of my great friends.
> 
> I take fanfiction requests, prompts, etc. on my [Twitter.](http://twitter.com/nidavellir_)
> 
> If you liked the chapter, [check it out on Tumblr as well.](http://aucarus.tumblr.com/post/175007386380/untouchable-chapter-1) Reblog and like, so the fic gains more exposure!  
> \--  
> EDITED JUNE 19, 2018:  
> Steve Rogers is now a Supervisory Special Agent, not a Special Agent in Charge. (That's Nick Fury's job.)


	2. Landscape with the Good Samaritan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For old readers: I did a little title switch for Steve. He is now a Supervisory Special Agent, not a Special Agent in Charge. Messed up the roles last time around. Oops.

        An hour had passed. Anthony Stark and Pepper Potts sat silently in the back of the unmarked FBI vehicle as it pushed through the New York City traffic. Thousands of thoughts raced through Tony’s head, as he watched the honking taxis and people rush across the streets. He always dotted all of his i’s and crossed all of his t’s. What went wrong? Why was he sitting in the back of an FBI car?

        There was always the possibility that this was a mistake- and that the evidence they had for whatever fancy law code that he had violated was falsified. Yet he was haunted by the chance that it was true- that they had caught him. He was always twenty steps ahead; why was it now that they were able to catch up?

The black Ford Explorer pulled into an underground parking garage and stopped. Glancing at Pepper, Tony noticed the worry that showed on her face. Her leg bounced up and down, and she seemed to shudder with every breath she took.

        Pepper- she was Anthony’s right-hand woman. Even more than that, she was one of his best friends. The lifestyle that Stark chose had consequences, and he knew that; however, getting his best friend arrested- when she was only toe-deep in the criminal world- was never a consequence that he had thought of. Seeing her frightened eyes and her body shaking with fear made Tony’s heart sink. This was his fault.

        “Pep. Pepper. Look at me,” he whispered, “Take a deep breath.”

        She looked at him nervously as she breathed in and out, almost desperately gasping for air.

        “I-...I’m scared, Tony,” she said, trembling.

        With her admission, he murmured, “...Yeah. Yeah, I am too.”

        Special Agents Maximoff and Barnes soon left their seats and opened the doors for the two. It was time for them to depart. As he began to slide out of the car, he turned to Pepper.

        “Pepper…I’ll make this right.”

        Led in a different direction, Barnes and Stark walked to an elevator far from the ladies. A weight pushed down on his head as he walked; he tried to shake away any anxious thoughts. In the elevator, Tony felt the male agent glare into his backside, practically burning a hole into his shirt. Once the elevator reached the twentieth floor, it came to a stop, and opened with a short ding. Agent Barnes gently pushed Stark out of the lift, grabbed his arm, and led him towards a set of desks; rows of white desks that were in neat rows. On each desk was a computer, many different documents, and other office supplies. It was the workplace of the lower agents in the division.

        While Barnes did not declare his intentions for idly standing in the middle of the office, Stark assumed it was because he awaited the command of the higher ups. The agent seemed to be a quiet man, not exactly enjoying the fact that he had to babysit the stolen art collector. Instead of speaking with Tony, Barnes scrolled through his phone while Tony observed the nearby desks.

        Names of several criminals were scribbled across different files, documents, and photographs. Noticing one in particular, labeled “UNKNOWN SUSPECT,” he squinted in an attempt to get a better look. The document was practically empty, only stating that three of the FBI’s key witnesses to take down a Russian drug operation were killed. The only evidence left at the scene was imprints of shoes that appeared to be high heels, indicating that the killer was most likely a woman.

        Almost immediately, Tony made the connection. He knew who the suspect was, and he was fortunate enough to avoid her; the talk of the town was that the woman was named Black Widow. He did know some who had the pleasure of meeting the murderer. Of course, those people never lived to see the next day.  Supposedly, she was a former KGB agent who defected and became a hitwoman. She only worked on hired hits, and never went out of her way to find jobs. The only way to get in touch with her was through a code, given to a man in a shady bar at Brighton Beach in Brooklyn. Somehow, through whatever the Russians used to communicate and deal shady business, the message got to her and she met you at random. It was rumored that Black Widow was so terrifying and intimidating that when you saw her you knew it was her, and if you were her hit, you would die of fright almost immediately.

        Looking back at the files, he didn’t notice too many big players. While there were a few more, none were as infamous as Black Widow or himself. It seemed that the Bureau either didn’t prioritize the capture of big criminals or didn’t know of them. _And yet,_ he thought, _they got me._

        Interrupting his snooping, an agent walked to Barnes and murmured something inaudible. Within the next second, Tony was whisked into a different hallway filled with private offices. As the pair walked past the rooms, the workers stood up or peeked out of their workrooms to see the infamous Anthony Stark. Once the two arrived at their destination, Tony was uncuffed and told to sit at an old, worn table. Looking around, he noticed a mirror and not much else.

        “Is that the one way glass that you see in TV shows?” he joked, grinning stupidly at Barnes.

        “Shut up,” the agent said, annoyed, “Agent Rogers will see you shortly.”

        The door clicked shut, and Tony heard about twenty different locking mechanisms click into place. If it was anything like the shows he watched, this would take forever.

* * *

 

        After what felt like an entire day- there were no clocks in the room- the blond agent stepped into the room. He sat in a chair on the opposite side of Tony, placed some folders on the table, and he raised his hand to be shaken.

        “Supervisory Special Agent Steve Rogers. You’re the talk of the town here, Mr. Stark,” he chuckled, as he made himself comfortable.

        Tony raised his eyebrows at the remark, and retorted, “I haven’t heard about you, Agent Rogers, but it’s great to know the FBI is in my business.”

        Almost immediately, Steven’s expression hardened, seemingly annoyed at the man’s jokes. Noticing this, Tony scoffed.

        “What? Only you’re allowed to have fun? Fine. Then let’s cut to the chase. I want my lawyer.”

        The blond shook his head as he explained, “Unfortunately, when you cross into my territory, you no longer have the privileges we give others.”

        Before the criminal could protest, the agent asked, “Why do you think you’re here?”

        “To entertain you,” Tony jeered, “No one told me shit. How would I know why I’m here?”

        Rogers winced at the swear, as he shook his head, “You _know_ why you’re here. We have evidence, Mr. Stark. You shouldn’t lie to the Bureau.”

        Opening one of the manila folders, he revealed several photographs of artwork in a warehouse. Each photo had a caption that followed the lines of “STOLEN, CONFIRMED TO BE IN POSSESSION BY ANTHONY STARK AT PRIVATE LOCATION.”

        Staring at each photo, Tony’s blood ran cold. He could easily identify each work. They were all his, from _Angel Appearing to the Shepherds_ to _The Guitar Player_ , each was one that he had spent countless hours retrieving from illegal art dealers around the world.

        “Are these yours, Mr. Stark?” Steven asked. Tony did not respond.

        He began to feel dizzy, as if his world was collapsing upon itself.

        “An agent saw your private collection,” the blond continued, “after you invited him yourself.”

_What?_

        “While we call him Agent Wilson here, you may know him as Paint.”

        Rubbing his chin and looking at each of the photos, the criminal tried to maintain his composure. Tony remembered bringing Paint to his gallery, but he never seemed to arouse any suspicion. In an attempt to save face, he gestured to the folder of photographs.

        “How did you get photos of these reproductions? When I was with Paint-...or, well...Agent Wilson- he was alone and didn’t have any cameras.”

        Almost immediately, the man replied, “Reproductions, Mr. Stark? We’ve forensically authenticated all of these works. We received a warrant to search your warehouse. I’ve seen it all. It’s impressive. If only Wilson had been able to deliver the Degas painting. Miss Potts said you were incredibly excited and had waited for this deal for over eight months.”

        The cat had caught the mouse. Anthony Stark was cornered.

        He froze in his seat, searching his brain for answers. He needed to gain the upper hand. For his freedom. For Pepper.

        He could confess his crimes. Maybe that would let Pepper go free, and he’d take the fall. He mentally hit himself on the head. _No, you idiot. She’s an accomplice to your crimes._

        He could slide a few million dollars into FBI funding. _Isn’t bribery also against the law?_

        Then, the answer struck him. With the thousands of ideas racing through his head, one made it to the finish line.

        “Black Widow,” he blurted out. “A defected KGB agent.”

        Puzzled, Agent Rogers furrowed his eyebrows.

        “And why do I need to know this?”

        “Because she’s your unknown suspect.”

        Steve Rogers grabbed a pen and marked the name on a manila folder. Staring into Stark’s eyes, he tried to figure out how the criminal knew that the FBI was attempting to name an unidentified murderer. Her files were classified, and no information of the case had been released to the public. It was obvious by his blank face and scrunched nose that he couldn’t figure it out.

        “One of your field agents left a document out,” the criminal answered, “I thought the Bureau would be more careful with information, but it seems otherwise.”

        As if a weight was lifted off of his back, Steve relaxed and his face returned to its normal, stoic demeanor. While it was a bit concerning that his agents left their documents out in the open, it was better than someone leaking classified details. However, it was obvious that the details of Black Widow weren’t exactly relevant to Stark’s case.

        “Why are you telling me this, Mr. Stark?”

        “To be released by the FBI. Both Pepper Potts and I. I want full immunity. I’m giving you a chance to avenge your witnesses.”

        The agent shook his head. “I’m afraid that I can’t grant you that; it’s not in my power nor am I interested. You’re a criminal, Mr. Stark.”

        “Then who will listen? I’ll talk to the man in charge,” Tony retorted. “He’ll understand the importance of the information.”

        Stark looked to the mirror. He had seen it on TV shows, so hopefully, it was true. Clearing his voice, he spoke to the mirror with some uncertainty.

        “I have intelligence on the most notorious criminals in New York City. I looked at your files. They are empty, yet you and I both see the streets drowning in crime. I’m not the only fish in the sea. You _need_ me. I can provide that information to catch them all. You don’t trust me? I know who killed your witnesses. Black Widow. _I_ can bring her to you on a silver platter.”

        Within a minute, the door to the interrogation room unlocked. A man with an eye patch walked in, and Steven Rogers stood up to greet him. Tension began to rise in the air.

        “Sit down, Rogers. No need to stand,” said the newcomer as Rogers returned to his former position. “I’m Nick Fury. Special Agent-In-Charge of the Organized Crime unit. What’s this about Black Widow?”

        Relief welled up in Tony’s chest. The tide was turning in his favor.

        “Three key witnesses to testify against the Russian mob all found dead. The only thing that’s left is high-heeled shoe marks. The most famous hitwoman on the market is Black Widow, a Russian. Unless a guy can rock heels and murder like her, she’s your woman. Connect the dots, Agent Fury. I can get her for you.”

        Standing there, Nick Fury watched Tony Stark. He thought of the man’s future; the potential that the criminal could bring to the Bureau. He made his decision rather easily.

        “What do you want for Black Widow?” he asked.

        “Immunity for Pepper Potts and I. I’ll continue running Stark Industries. No one needs to know of this encounter. I’ll be a criminal informant for as long as you need me. Then, I’ll go free.”

        Having sat there quietly, Rogers finally raised objections. “With all due respect, sir, we can’t just let a criminal run fr-”

        “Quiet, Rogers,” the head agent commanded. “We’ll put a tracker on your leg. When you’re not on missions, you are bound to travel between Stark Industries and your Manhattan home.”

        With a grin, Tony asked, “Can my driver still drive me?”

        “Don’t get cocky, Stark. Your driver can still drive you, but you and your unit- Potts and Hogan- will always be supervised by Agent Rogers and his team. You are to report to him.”

        Eyes widening, both the agent and criminal exclaimed, “Wait wh-”

        “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet, Agent Rogers? Stand down, Stark. These are my terms. Take it or face ten or more years in prison.”

        Without hesitating, he raised his hand to be shaken.

        “Easiest decision I’ve ever made in my life. If it’s ten years in prison or hanging out with the FBI, I’d _much_ rather spend it being babysat by Agent Rogers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! `7`)/
> 
> Story info: Updated twice a month, always beta-read, not taking requests  
> Chapter title reference: Yet another one of Rembrandt's painting, still not found.  
> My beta readers: [Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonhelo), [Jadene](http://twitter.com/lilnokomis), [Alexandra](http://twitter.com/enfysdaisy)  
> I wouldn't have been able to write this without my beta readers!
> 
> I take fanfiction requests, prompts, etc. on my [Twitter.](http://twitter.com/nidavellir_)
> 
> If you liked the chapter, [check it out on Tumblr as well.](http://aucarus.tumblr.com/post/175089549820/untouchable-chapter-2) Reblog and like, so the fic gains more exposure! (And follow me, while you're at it.)


	3. Marine

        After being released from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Anthony Stark called Happy Hogan, his driver and security detail, to take him and Pepper Potts to their homes. Tony debriefed his friends on the situation they faced.

        “You’re crazy, Tony,” Pepper mumbled under her breath. She was still calming down from being interrogated by the Bureau; although she only had been asked a few questions, the uncertainty of her future made her scared. She knew that there were risks associated with doing this type of dirty work, but she had not expected it to fall apart after all these years she had worked with Tony. Noticing her anxiety, Tony wrapped his arm around her and gave her a shoulder a gentle squeeze.

        It was strange. All of his life, Tony had been taught by his father, who had run the Stark crime family concisely and with passion, to avoid the law. On the other hand, Anthony had mixed work with pleasure- collecting stolen paintings as a hobby and investment strategy. Consequently, he was now forced to work for the law to maintain his freedom or face prison for the possession of stolen artwork. He was a criminal informant.

        He never imagined that he would be in this position. What would happen if he slipped up and blew his cover? What if the criminals took it upon themselves to deal with him? There were no courts of law to deal with criminals who changed sides in the underworld. Instead, there was a bullet in the back of the head. They would string his body up in the middle of New York City to make a statement: even one of the most powerful men in the criminal underworld could not interfere with their business. The FBI would not help him; if he got caught, the Bureau would leave him to die. It would be one less person that they would have to worry about.

         Tony shuddered at the thoughts but attempted to push them away. He was safe. Happy would guard him, Pepper would be monitored whenever they were working on a case, and he wore a sleek, black tracking band around his ankle. All three of them were protected. _We’ll be fine_ , the brunet tried to tell himself. The Bureau would find him if he ever went missing, or at least return his body to his friends.

         Placing his left foot on his right knee, he fiddled with the device around his left ankle. The only way to open the ankle monitor was through a key that Agent Steve Rogers held; however, Tony was sure he could figure out a way to unlock the device if given enough time. It was not state of the art technology; it was just the typical government-issued tracker with a few security improvements for criminals who had committed federal crimes.

        “Do you think they’d know if I messed around with it?” Tony asked, to no one in particular.

        “Do you want to go to jail that bad?” Happy replied as he looked in the rearview mirror, “Leave it be, sir.” Then, parking in Pepper’s driveway, he exited the car to open the door for the lady.

        Grabbing her belongings, Pepper smiled softly one last time at Tony. “Thank you, Tony,” she said quietly, “For doing this.” She tapped on his left ankle and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

        Leaving Tony’s car, she waved and chuckled, “Don’t do anything stupid with the bracelet. I like my freedom.” He laughed in return and waved her off.

        “See you tomorrow, Pep. Busy day.”

        After dropping her off at her door, Happy returned to the car and drove off to Tony’s mansion. The two sat in silence, both thinking about the future that lay ahead.

* * *

        The following morning, Anthony stepped into the Stark Industries tower and greeted the security guard. He walked to the elevator with no interruption, no questions asked. Business as usual. No one stared at him as if they knew something strange had happened yesterday- good.

        He stood at the elevator and checked his watch. He was late, as per usual. Today he was supposed to have the meeting with Paint, but seeing as Paint was not an art dealer, he assumed that deal fell through. Instead, he would be having a meeting with Agent Rogers about his upcoming undercover operation. Curious to what Pepper had planned for him, Tony took a quick glance at his schedule and noticed that it had changed to an incredibly vague outline of his day.

 **TODAY:** 10:30 Meeting | 12:30 Lunch | 2:00 Meeting

        _Always on top of things._ Tony thought as he exited the calendar to look at emails. As he stared at his phone, a hand tapped him on his shoulder. Turning to look, it was Pepper. “Late. _Again_ ,” she scolded as the elevator doors opened. “You’d think that you’d come early if you had something important to do.”

        Tony snorted as the two stepped into the elevator. She knew well and clear that he would not fix his lateness, even if his life depended on it. He was always late, even when Pepper adjusted the schedule to try to accommodate for his lack of punctuality. They stood quietly for a moment in the elevator, and Tony watched as the lift made the ascent to their office’s floor.

        “He’s already here,” Pepper said, breaking the silence, “He came thirty minutes early. I had to tell him that you never come early, much less on time. He’s been looking annoyed for the past hour.”

        “He always looks annoyed,” Tony joked, “Don’t think he’s too happy about this arrangement.”

        “Well, whether or not he’s happy, you should make a good impression. I’m telling you this as your friend. Ten years or so in prison is not something you would like. Slumming it isn’t Tony Stark’s preferred lifestyle.”

        The criminal pouted and relented to his friend’s wishes. “I’ll try my best.”

        The elevator doors opened with a ding and the two stepped into the workspace. Pepper went to her desk while Tony went into his office. Inside, Supervisory Special Agent Steve Rogers sat idly, tapping his foot and looking around the room. He seemed to be discomforted by all the books, robot parts, and exotic souvenirs that laid around the workspace like a child’s messy bedroom.

        When he walked in, the agent stood to greet him.

        “Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

        “Mornin’- Just call me Tony.”

        “...Well, uh, Tony. You can call me Steve then. But...you’re late. I’d appreciate if you could come on time. Every minute matters in this case.”

        “I don’t think Black Widow can kill,” Tony checked his watch, “A person every minute. If she managed to finish thirty contracts- well, I’d rather take the cell. Wouldn’t want to deal with her.”

        Steve let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. He bent over in his seat to grab a briefcase and some folders, then placed them on the brunet’s desk.

        “This briefcase is yours. We searched it as per protocol. While I don’t approve of the contents, Agent Fury believed some of the items may be essential for other operations.”

        As the agent spoke, Tony opened the container. Inside, there was twenty-one passports for seven different small countries, foreign currency, various fake identity cards, and a handgun. After a quick inspection, he closed it. Everything was in order. Long ago, the briefcase was prepared in case of an emergency that would require Tony, Pepper, or Happy escaping the United States or any other threats. It had never been used- the only time Tony felt scared enough to use it was yesterday, and it was no longer necessary.

        “The folder is everything we know about your assignment,” Steve continued, “The Bureau was thinking that we would try to set up a meeting with Black Widow tomorrow.”

        The criminal grabbed the folder and skimmed the contents. Raising his eyebrow at the agent’s lofty goals, he stated flatly, “We can set up the meeting, but we might not be able to meet her tomorrow.”

        “What do you mean?”

        Tony sighed, “She decides the meeting.”

        “So, for all we know, it takes eight months?”

        “Right.”

        Agent Rogers frowned. “Great. What else do you know about her?”

        “Only so much. She’s pretty secretive. Obviously good at her job. Loyal to money, but usually takes contracts for the Russian Mafia. She’s focused in New York. Though, last I heard, she’s done hits in L.A. too. The _Bratva_ likes her because she does everything cleanly. As far as I know, those high heel marks you have are her only mistake.”

        Grabbing the folder and a pen from Tony’s desk, Steve jotted down the given information. Unsatisfied, he tried to pry for more information. “That’s all you have?”

        “Unfortunately. The only thing we can do now is go to Brighton Beach and call her,” the criminal shrugged, “I can bring her to you, but I never said it was going to be easy.”

        Rubbing his temples, Steve Rogers shook his head and muttered, “Fine. We’ll see you tomorrow at the FBI office at ten. I take it that you have your company to attend to, so I’ll leave you to do your business. Don’t be late, Tony.”

* * *

       At eight in the morning, Tony Stark arrived at the Stark Industries skyscraper. Walking into the building, greeting a surprised security guard, and going up the elevator, he soon reached his office. At her desk, Pepper typed away at replies to dozens of emails from clients who wanted to meet with the illustrious businessman. She glanced up as the elevator ringed, a look of confusion was present on her face as she noticed it was her boss at the elevator door.

       “Morning- what’s the rush today, Mr. Stark?” she asked as she rolled her wheeled office chair away from her computer to see him better. Today, he was looking nicer than usual. She knew that he had to do an important operation today, but she did not think that he would take it as a reason to look even more polished than he usually did.

        Tony shrugged as he sat in a chair across from his assistant. Grabbing some papers from her “TO: ANTHONY STARK” bin, he shuffled through each of them. They were mostly press requests to hear about Stark Industries’ latest advances in robotics and other scientific fields, but some were encrypted messages for deals regarding his other business. Unfortunately, he did not have time to address them today. Today, he’d be working for the enemy of his underground clients.

        “Are you _nervous_?” Pepper realized, with a large smile on her face, “ _Anthony Stark?_ Nervous? _What_ a world we live in.”

        Cheeks turning a light pink, Tony rolled his eyes and replied, “No. I’m _not_ nervous, Pepper. I just wanted to see you before I went to Brighton.” Only half of that statement was true.

        “You _are_ nervous!” His assistant laughed as she wheeled her chair over to his side. She rubbed the small of his back and encouraged him with a smile. “You’ll do great, boss.”

        “Thanks. Hopefully, Black Widow doesn’t realize that I’m about to throw her in jail and kills me,” Tony mumbled. Truth be told, Tony was more nervous about meeting Black Widow than he was about summoning her. If they somehow knew that he was not going for a hit, but instead trying to arrest her, he would be done for. Getting shot in the back of the head was not the way that Anthony Stark wanted to go out.

        The criminal stood up and gave his friend a thin smile. She believed in him, and so all he needed to do was believe in himself. (At least, that’s what he told himself.) He squeezed her shoulder as she smiled in return, giving a thumbs up as he turned to leave back through the elevator.

        As the lift doors closed, Pepper shouted, “Take her down, Tony!”

        He made his way back to his car and slid into the soft, leather backseat of his car. Giving Happy the okay to begin driving, the two made their way to the Bureau's headquarters.

        “Thanks for telling me to go early,” Tony said quietly, which made his driver look in the rearview mirror and give him an encouraging grin.

        “Miss Potts always knows how to bring the morale up, sir,” Happy nodded as he honked at a jaywalker. New York City traffic never stopped for anyone, and that included a criminal overlord. The jaywalker flipped the car off and shouted profanities. Happy sighed, but continued to speak as he pushed on through the city.

        “Agent Rogers informed me that I would be allowed to sit in on the surveillance of the bar. But he told me that it would be purely audio.” Upon hearing that his bodyguard would be present, Tony seemed to relax a little.

        Happy continued, “They’ll be giving you a watch with a wiretap system on it. If they’re using the same technology that I’m experienced with, you can turn it on and off, but I suggest you keep it on. It might give the Bureau the wrong ideas if you turn it off. It also has GPS tracking, so I assume they’ll be taking off your ankle monitor. Don't run, or that'll be bad news for both of us.”

        The criminal nodded- that seemed fair and was obvious. Why would he want to disconnect or escape from the one group capable of saving his ass in a _Bratva_ bar anyways?

        And with that, the car pulled into the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s parking garage.

        At the elevators, two agents that Tony recognized were standing and chatting quietly. It was Agent Barnes and Maximoff. Happy opened the door for him as the two approached the vehicle.

        “Mr. Hogan, Mr. Stark, thank you for coming,” Agent Maximoff said as she shook the two’s hands, “Agent Rogers is waiting for you upstairs, Mr. Stark. Mr. Hogan, if you’ll come with Agent Barnes and I, we’ll show you the surveillance mechanism.”

        The brunette gestured to a vehicle that had been painted to look like a plumbing van. To Tony, it seemed convincing. Hopefully, the Russian mafia would think the same and not realize that they were being spied on. Agent Maximoff ushered for the bodyguard to follow her as she moved towards the van. With Stark, Agent Barnes pressed the elevator button, gestured to the lift when the doors opened, and pressed a button labeled “20” after swiping his ID card. Once the criminal made it inside, the agent left the elevator to join the other agent and Happy.

        Eventually, the elevator made it to the twentieth floor. Stepping out of the elevator, he was immediately greeted by Agent Wilson, the man who was undercover as Paint.

        “Nice to see you, Mr. Stark, glad to finally meet the legend without the disguise,” Agent Wilson grinned cheekily, “People here don’t call me Paint- it’s Special Agent Sam Wilson. Though Sam works too. I’ll be watching over Miss Potts today while you work.”

        “So you’ll be at the office today?” Tony asked, “Under what guise?”

        “A client that you had to meet- Paint, of course. I came the other day and you weren’t there, so your assistant rescheduled me for today. Well, that was after I told her that I needed to have a cover identity. She suggested that we go to lunch and discuss business together in your stead. Clever girl you got, Stark.”

        The criminal chuckled and nodded. Indeed, his good friend was clever.

        "How do you like Rogers so far?” Wilson asked.

        “He’s an agent,” Tony said bluntly as he shrugged, “Got a bit of a stick in his rear.”

        “Yeah, that’s the supervisory special agent for you. Good man though, he’ll treat you well. He’s studied your case for years. He’s practically your biggest fan.”

        _So they knew all that time?_ Tony thought to himself as he raised an eyebrow at the statement, _Probably have a lot more dirt on me than I thought. Need to ask Happy to investigate that._ He would have to get access his file somehow.

        The two walked as they continued Tony’s introduction to the office and its workers and, soon enough, they reached the office of Steve Rogers. Entering, the criminal looked around as Agent Wilson spoke to Rogers for a brief moment. Tony had never seen the office space before- the last time he was here he was held in an interrogation room.

        There were dozens of certificates and plaques hung up along the walls. He had an old, worn vinyl chair and scratched mahogany desk with paperwork neatly stacked in a corner. Compared to Mr. Stark’s luxurious desk made from African woods, real leather office chair, and incredibly messy workspace, Agent Rogers’ seemed more official. Tony did not really need an office; he only used it for meetings with business partners or a place for him to hang out when he did not want to spend his time in his private lab.

        Finishing their conversation, Agent Wilson waved goodbye to Stark as he left the room. Shutting the door after the agent, Steve gestured to another worn chair for Tony to sit in. Making himself as comfortable as he could- the chairs weren’t very ergonomic or soft- the wealthy man sat and listened to the briefing by the agent.

        Steve began, “We’ll be giving you a Rolex watch and you--”

        “ _A Rolex!_ Where did you guys get that money?” Tony interjected.

        The agent sighed, “You aren’t our only high profile criminal that we have arrested, Tony. The DEA and the Bureau worked together on a case to capture a small-time drug lord who enjoyed collecting watches. We filed and collected the evidence, so we have a lot of watches. The tech experts fitted this watch with a microphone and tracking device, so we could use it for undercover operations like these. Can I continue?”

        Tony nodded, satisfied with the blond’s answer.

        “Thank you. You’ll be leaving it on when you go to contact Black Widow. We’ll take off your tracking band,” Steve stopped giving instructions to pull out a key from his pocket. He gestured for Tony to bring his ankle up and took off the tracker. In its departure, Steve brought out the watch and handed it to the criminal to put on. With that, he continued speaking.

        “If you think your cover is blown, don’t do anything. Try to act calm. But, if you know your cover is blown, use the code words ‘the simple life’ in a sentence. We’ll come in and do what we can, though that will destroy the operation. Use it wisely. If they take you somewhere, we’ll track you down with the watch’s GPS signal. Got it?”

        “Sounds easy enough,” the criminal said as he admired his watch.

        “Great,” the agent said as he went to grab his jacket, which was slung over his chair, “Then let’s head to the beach.”

* * *

        After a long hour of driving, Tony and the Bureau made it to Brighton Beach. He had to drive in a separate vehicle to deter any suspicion. Why would Anthony Stark, an incredibly wealthy man, go to the beach in a repair vehicle? He took his Rolls Royce instead.

        Stepping out of his car and locking the door thrice- he saw the way the people stared at his car- Tony stuffed his keys into his suit pocket and gazed at his watch for a moment. Sure hope it works, he thought to himself.

        Taking in his surroundings, he noticed the lines of Russian shops and restaurants that filled the boardwalk. “I’m definitely in the right place,” he muttered to himself as he began to walk down the wooden pathway. He passed little trinket shops, crab shacks, and Russian bathhouses. Looking for the bar named _Pautina_ , which was a known hangout for the _Bratva_ , Tony stared at the storefronts. While he walked, people stared at him. It was uncommon to be wearing a designer suit to the beach.

        Eventually, the criminal found his destination. Taking a quick look around, he noticed the plumbing van, the FBI’s cover, parked at a reasonable distance in a little lot. Near the vehicle on a bench, sat Agent Barnes in boardshorts, flip flops, and a loose, Hawaiian shirt reading a newspaper and wearing headphones. At a beach entrance, Agent Maximoff appeared to be taking photos of the ocean while wearing headphones and a simple swimsuit cover-up dress. On each of the agents, Tony noticed a bump on their bodies. From that, he deduced that they had brought their weapons just in case. He felt a little safer.

        When the male walked into _Pautina_ , both agents muttered, “Iron Man has entered,” which was inaudible to passersby.

        Once Tony entered the establishment, he noticed that there were a lot of Russians. It made sense because Brighton Beach was known as Little Russia, but how many of those men were a part of the mafia? The men playing cards in the corner looked like they could break every single bone in his body, then seal them back together using brute force. The woman seducing what seemed like a tourist could probably slit the man's throat. For all he knew, she was Black Widow. He swallowed his anxiety and walked over to the dirty bar where the bartender stood talking with clients.

        The bartender was an older man who looked like he had fought in many wars. His face, wrinkled and worn with time, had a nose which was broken beyond repair. The man could probably split Tony in half if he spoke wrong.

        Approached by Tony, the bartender looked up from his conversation and asked in a thick, Russian accent, “What can I get you?”

        The criminal looked around, nervous as if someone could hear him, and said, “You got single malt scotch? On the rocks, please.”

        Pouring out Tony’s drink, the old man joked, “What is man like you doing in Brighton Beach? Anthony Stark, you are _big_ businessman! Do you not go to Hamptons?”

        _Great. He knows who I am. ...The cover isn’t blown, though. Just...stay calm Tony._ He drank the cup in a few sips and placed it down. When the bartender went to pour another one, he shook his head.

        “No, I’m good. Thanks.” The bartender took the glass away.

        “I’m just visiting Brighton on business,” the brunet answered, watching as the other clients at the bar moved away to play pool, “Really craving a White Spider right now though, heard Pautina was a good place to get it. Can I get that?”

        The old man looked unfazed and nodded as he began to prepare the beverage. While the bartender mixed the components together, Tony spoke.

        “Do you guys have the ingredients to make _Chyornaya Vdova_ here?”

        For a moment, Tony got nervous, as if he had said something wrong because the bartender stopped making the drink. His body tensed, and he almost wanted to call for help. However, the man went back to mixing the drink and replied in a hushed voice.

        “Yes. We do. I did not take you for that kind of man, Mister Stark. Not many people ask for that.”

        “I didn’t either, but sometimes you have to try new things,” the criminal responded in an equally hushed voice. “I’ll be here until tonight at nine. Then, I’m going back to the Stark Industries tower. Do you think you can make it for me by then? I don’t want to take up too much of your time right now- I have other things to deal with.” Tony glanced at his watch. _She has nine hours to come._

        “Of course. That is little time, but I will see what I can do. Do you have number I will call you at?” The man placed Tony’s drink on the counter and a napkin with a pen.

        “Yeah, call me here.” He scribbled down his number and took a sip of the White Spider. The taste was disgusting to him, but he didn’t spit it out in kindness. Instead, he slid the drink back after taking a few more difficult sips.

        Tony pulled out his wallet and dropped two one hundred dollar bills on the counter and waved goodbye to the bartender. The meeting was arranged.

        “See you soon, Mister Stark.”

        “Yeah, I look forward to it.”

        His stomach somersaulted as he walked out of the bar and onto the boardwalk.

        Sighing, he brought his arm up to his head and itched the back of his neck as he muttered, “It’s done. Now, we just wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! `7`)/
> 
> Story info: Updated twice a month, always beta-read, not taking requests  
> Chapter title reference: Not a Rembrandt! Instead, a stolen Monet painting.  
> My beta reader: [Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonhelo)  
> I wouldn't have been able to write this without my great editor, Claire. I'm forever thankful for his help.
> 
> I take fanfiction requests, prompts, etc. on my [Twitter.](http://twitter.com/nidavellir_)
> 
> Here's a little trivia for the chapter to maybe enhance your understanding:  
> Bratva = Translates to "Brotherhood," often what people call the Russian Mafia  
> DEA = Drug Enforcement Agency  
> Pautina = Spiderweb in Russian  
> White Spider = A famous American cocktail. ([Recipe](https://www.saveur.com/article/Wine-and-Drink/White-Spider))  
> Chyornaya Vdova = Black Widow's Russian name. A lesser known cocktail. ([Recipe](https://www.thespruceeats.com/black-widow-recipe-761008))
> 
> If you liked the chapter, [check it out on Tumblr as well.](http://aucarus.tumblr.com/fics) Reblog and like the post, so the fic gains more exposure! (And follow me, while you're at it.)
> 
> See you next update. Thank you for all who have left such lovely comments and subscribed to the work. I read every comment and when I check my stats page I always stare at the subscriber number. I'm taken aback by the fact that people actually want to read my writing! It's really exciting.
> 
> Lots of love x


	4. The Lion Hunt

        Immediately after leaving the bar and informing the surveillance team of what had transpired, Anthony Stark found the nearest bathroom. It was a grimy restroom; it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in over a year. He cringed at the dirt on the tiles, but set aside his disgust. He needed this private time. He glanced underneath the stalls, noticed more filth but no shoes, and walked into the farthest one. Grabbing a paper toilet cover, he placed it down and sat on the seat with his pants on. Even though the restroom was disgusting, he needed this. He needed a moment to himself to breathe.

_         You’re alive!  _ he told himself. Despite nursing a few drinks, Tony’s hands trembled and his heart felt like it was trying to break out of his chest. He held his head in his hands as he breathed quietly, attempting to calm himself down. Staring at the discolored floor tiles, he counted each stain in his head until he was interrupted by a knock on the stall door.

        “Someone’s in here,” Tony shouted as he looked at the stall door, “There are three other stalls!”

        “Come out,” a stern voice replied in a hushed voice. Instantly, Tony recognized it as Agent Barnes. He opened the door slightly to peek out at the speaker to make sure his assumptions were correct, and once proving himself right, stepped out of the stall.

        Barnes pressed a finger to his lips and shushed Tony before he could speak. Going to the restroom entrance, he locked the door. Then, he turned on the sink faucets and gestured for the criminal to turn off his wiretapped watch.

        Tony tilted his head and mouthed, “Why?”

        Not providing a reason, the agent grabbed Tony’s wrist and turned the watch off.

        “Rogers’ orders,” Barnes began, “Don’t talk too loudly. Understand?”

        Stark nodded and asked, “What are you doing here? Thought I was supposed to be…”

        He trailed off, realizing that it was best if he left the words unsaid. Even if the water was running and his watch was off, there always could be a chance that they were being watched.

        “Because I need to be here,” the man responded bluntly.

        Agent Barnes continued, “Aldrich Killian.”

        Confused, Tony’s eyebrows furrowed together. Why would he say that name? Then, he made the connection. He would be setting Aldrich Killian up with Black Widow.   


        “We’re actually going to--”

        “It’s for the better, Stark.”

        “What do you mean, ‘for the better?’ Since when was  _ murder  _ ever the better option?”

        “Lower your voice,” the agent shot back angrily. Despite the fact that he took the necessary precautions, it was still dangerous to state their plans. “He’s a monster. Killian has done more than just steal artwork.  _ You  _ know what he’s done and is capable of-- we know he tried to partner with you in the past. If anything, see it as a favor. Your company will be unrivaled with its main competitor out of the way.”

        “Did Rogers say this was happening?”

        Condescendingly, Barnes replied, “Why  _ else  _ would I be telling you this?”

        Tony stood conflicted as Agent Barnes shut off the faucets and unlocked the bathroom. Exiting the public restroom, he reminded Stark to turn on his watch by tapping his wrist.

* * *

 

        Tony left the restroom shortly after Agent Barnes departed with his watch turned on. He made his way to a Russian restaurant and ordered lunch. Making a quick note of his surroundings, the brunet noticed Agent Maximoff eating lunch in the outdoor section of the restaurant; she was most likely watching over him. A small sigh of relief escaped his lips as he ate his meal and let himself get lost in thought.

        Long ago, Anthony Stark had met a man named Aldrich Killian, who was the CEO of Advanced Idea Mechanics (A.I.M.). Killian tried to recruit Stark as an investor in his company and underground activities. Publicly, the partnership would involve funding A.I.M. for research on creating superhuman soldiers through implants and body modifications. Behind closed doors, Tony would be providing money for human trafficking rings and other illicit activities. Unfortunately for Aldrich, the Stark Industries CEO drew a fine line with his business practices in both the criminal and legal realms. Tony Stark was the owner of many stolen artworks, a few underground casinos, and a street racing ring, but he was not a human-trafficker or a businessman who funded war efforts. He declined any attempts of contact by Advanced Idea Mechanics and Aldrich Killian.

        Before Agent Barnes’ announcement, Anthony Stark had rarely thought of Aldrich Killian. While the name did cross his mind when he went to anti-human trafficking charity events, he never made contact with the man or actively sought information about him. Occasionally, news in the crime world would spread about Killian using one of his modified men as mercenaries or how one of his human trafficking rings were busted. Although he was always happy to hear when one of Aldrich’s rings were shut down, Tony kept his nose out of the A.I.M. CEO’s business. He knew better than to meddle in others’ work, even if he loathed violence and was revolted by the manipulation of helpless individuals.

        Yet it still came as a shock to Anthony Stark that he would be sending the man to his grave. Even though Aldrich certainly  _ did  _ deserve it, the brunet felt strange knowing that the Federal Bureau of Investigation would sanction such a hit.

_         Probably something else they’re keeping under wraps, _ Tony reasoned as he drank from his beer,  _ Just like my arrangement, if something goes haywire...it’s all on me. _

        He sighed as he closed his eyes for a moment to relax.  _ What a terrible, terrible mess I’ve gotten myself into, _ he thought.

        As his eyes were shut, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Opening it up, he noticed a text message.

**[BLOCKED NUMBER]:** 40°34'31.9"N 73°57'16.4"W

        Looking at the message, he immediately noticed that it was coordinates for a location. Copying the numbers into the Stark Industries GPS, he found that it was at the far end of Brighton Beach. Looking at a satellite view, it appeared to be a somewhat empty area with thirty or so people.  _ Nothing too suspicious, _ he thought to himself.  _ Need to tell Rogers. _

        Tony scanned his surroundings then lifted his watch to his mouth as he pretended to rub his neck.

        “40°. 34'. 31.9"N. 73°. 57'. 16.4"W,” he murmured slowly, “No set time. ASAP probably.”

        Almost immediately, the man saw Agent Maximoff lift her head up from her phone and look into the restaurant for a quick glance at him. She waved for her waiter and asked for a bill, paying quickly and leaving without acknowledging Tony. He assumed that she and Barnes would be going to the location before him to determine whether or not it was safe. His thoughts were confirmed when he saw the Hawaiian shirt wearing agent pass the restaurant in the direction of the coordinates.

        So, in order to give them time, Tony ordered a glass of scotch on the rocks. He would need it. He took his time, downing a glass before he decided that it was best to head off. Coupled with the alcohol from earlier, the criminal had garnered enough liquid courage to get him to talk to someone who could end his life on the spot. He paid for the bill, leaving a large tip, and went off to the meeting place.

        After a short walk, Tony reached the meeting place. He had passed Agent Maximoff on the way to the coordinates; however, he had not seen Agent Barnes. Tony suspected that the brunet hid somewhere further down the path. The surveillance-turned-plumbing van was nowhere in sight, but the criminal had noticed an insect extermination vehicle parked near a small boutique.  _ Hopefully _ , Stark thought to himself,  _ that’s Happy and Steve.  _

        Standing alone for what seemed like an eternity, Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and played with the sand using his shoes. His luxurious Balenciaga shoes cried for mercy as he wrote “STARK” in the sand.  _ Any day now, _ the male grumbled.

        Almost as if she could read his thoughts, the male felt an overwhelming presence approach him. He looked up from his mess, saw a redheaded woman, and embarrassingly scratched out his name in the sand. It had to be her- it had to be Black Widow.

        She was stunning from head to toe. Donning jean shorts, a t-shirt with Russian words, a jet black jogging jacket, and round sunglasses, Tony would have never suspected that she was an assassin who had killed more people than Tony had slept with. (And those numbers were both high.) The only indicator was the powerful aura which radiated from her every step.

        “Mr. Stark,” the woman said as she extended her hand to shake, “Natasha Romanoff. It’s an honor that you’ve decided to seek me out.”

        “Yeah,” Tony chuckled as he took her hand and pressed it to his lips, “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Romanoff.”

        “Please-  _ Natasha _ .”

        “Then Tony is fine.”

        “Alright Tony,” the redhead said as she slid her hand into his back pocket and waved towards the beach ahead of them. “Walk with me. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

        The move surprised him; Black Widow was rumored to have a poisonous kiss that killed targets, but to be flirtatious with her client? That was ballsy. He returned the gesture by sliding his hand around her hip and walking with her like a happy couple.

_         We’re moving away from the Bureau,  _ Tony realized.  _ Does she know? _

        He calmed himself as he replied. He could not break cover now, especially when he was this close.  _ If she knew, she wouldn’t be here, _ the male assured himself.  _ She would shoot me before I even got a chance to abort. _

        “It is nice- I wish Manhattan was like this more often.” 

        “That’s the beauty of Brighton, it’s always wonderful here,” Natasha grinned, “But- you’re not here to enjoy the weather, are you, Tony. What makes you come here?”

        The criminal took a quick look at his whereabouts: a young boy building a sandcastle, an old couple sleeping, Agent Barnes lounging on a chair reading a magazine (which surprised him but was comforting), and a lifeguard looking into the water. It was safe to discuss his intentions here. He lowered his voice as he answered, “Aldrich Killian.”

        “An opponent?” she guessed.

        “You could say that. More like a thorn in my side.”

        “He’s the CEO of A.I.M. and a powerful ringleader. A dangerous man.”

        “Yes he is. Can you do it?”

        “That’s a silly question, Tony. One and a half million is all it takes,” she said without hesitation.

        “How fast will it be done?”

        “In three days. I don’t like to leave my clients waiting. That would be bad customer service.”

        “And the body? Where will that go?”

        She stopped them in their tracks and looked him in the eye with a sly smile. “You don’t need to worry. That’s covered in your fees. I’ll take care of it. Do we have a deal?”

        For a moment, Tony hesitated. Wouldn’t they need the body to prove her guilty?  _ But asking to keep the body would be even more suspicious. I need to get her somewhere where they can catch her. _

        “We have a deal, but I’ll need it to be done where I can see him fall.”

        “I didn’t take you as that type of man, Tony. But...it can be done.”

        “Not many people do,” he hummed, “I’ll be hosting a gala. I’ll tell my assistant to add you to the list. Is there a name you’d like to go by?”

        The gala was a spur of the moment decision. Agent Rogers had never sanctioned such a thing, but Tony didn’t care. He knew it was best for the FBI to go along with it. It would play in their favor; Black Widow would be caught on the Bureau’s territory and the media would be farther away with the police already ready to barricade the party.

        “Natalie Rushman,” she declared. “You can send all information to the number I contacted you with. The routing number will come to you shortly. I expect half the payment before and the rest of it after.”

        Tony nodded and let his hand fall from Natasha’s side. She removed her hand from his pocket and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. From afar, the two looked like a couple who had just taken a walk on the beach. No one but them and the FBI men listening knew that they were planning a murder.

        As she began to leave, she waved and said,  “I’ll be looking forward to the party.”

        He watched her walk away, towards the bar where he had contacted her. When her figure began to fade off in the distance, blocked by passersby, he stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way to his car. The hit was set in stone, and now, Tony had an event to organize.

* * *

 

        Driving on the highway was slower than just running alongside it to get back to the office. At three in the afternoon, New York’s highways were already jammed. Despite the typical job being from nine in the morning to five in the evening, New York always found a way to pack its highways full. Commuters angrily honked their horns and shouted profanities through their windows.

        Tony sighed as he flipped between rock stations on his car’s radio. Music blasted through the stereos, trying to drown out the noise from the traffic. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any good music on. All the stations played alternative, modern rock which Tony thought was an insult to rock’s name. He shut the radio off as he pushed on the gas pedal to let his car inch forward. He would be stuck here for a while.

_         Probably should get some work done then,  _ the criminal decided. With that, he pulled out his smartphone and placed it in a cup holder.

        “Hey FRIDAY,” he said, “Can you check with JARVIS if Pep is still in the building?”

        “Of course, boss. Checking systems now,” the phone replied.

        After a few moments, his phone buzzed. “She is still in the building. She does not look like she will leave any time soon.”

        “Huh. Video call her for me?”

        “Alright, boss.”

        A hologram emerged from the phone screen, illuminating the interior of the Rolls Royce with a bluish light. A few rings echoed through the car before Pepper picked up.

        “Hey Tony,” she greeted as she typed away on her computer. She looked busy. “Did you need something?”

        “Yeah, uh...Could you set up a charity gala for Saturday? To support a MoMA or Met exhibit? Or really, actually...as soon as possible. Saturday’s kind of late. Thursday would be better.” He chuckled nervously as he drove his car a little farther. His car had barely moved for the past hour. Traffic sucked.

        “What? Thursday is in  _ three  _ days. You rarely support art museums, Tony. You  _ steal  _ from them.” She frowned and shook her head, “Is this to catch her?”

        “Of course,” he mumbled, “Why else would I ask you to do an event within a moment’s notice?”

        “Sometimes you do stupid things,” Pepper shrugged, “But an art gallery? That’s a little ironic, don’t you think?”

        “Well, you got anything better?”

        “How about another anti-human trafficking event? You haven’t attended one in…” she went silent for a moment as she pulled up her friend’s calendar on her computer. “Two months.”

        “Here’s the thing- the target is our good friend Killian.”

        “What?”

        “Yeah. Aldrich Killian.”

        “That would be a bit insulting then,” she said, “How about the funding of a new shelter? New York always needs those.”

        “Great. Tell the city planner that we want to construct a homeless shelter. If she needs a little motivation then you can slide her a few. Just use my checkbook.”

        Traffic began to pick up, so Tony focused on the road, glancing at Pepper out of the corner of his eye. He saw her rub her temple and begin to type frantically.

        “Got it. I’ll be arranging an impromptu meeting with her tonight at the office. You should come. Anything else, Mr. Stark?’

        “No, nothing else Ms. Potts. I’ll be coming back to the office after I get out of this traffic and drop by the Bureau. I’ll be there probably around five or six.”

        “That’s fine. I’ll see you then, Tony.”

        “Bye Pepper.”

        His assistant hung up the video call, and the interior of the Rolls Royce returned to its usual dark tones. He thought his work was finishing, but in reality, it was just beginning.

* * *

 

        Pulling into the parking garage, Tony Stark was greeted by Agents Rogers, Barnes, and Maximoff. Happy was also there, smoking off to the side by himself. A small smile was on Agent Rogers’ face as he extended his hand for Stark to shake.

        “Good job today, Tony,” the blond said proudly. “Let’s hope this charity event you have planned goes well. Did you actually have something planned? We weren’t informed.”

        The brunet chuckled in return. “Well, we’re  _ planning _ something right now. I have a meeting with the city planner in an hour.” The agents all expressed confusion and bewilderment at the criminal’s audacity to make such a risky plan.

        “Well, you better figure it out,” Agent Maximoff sighed. “We’ve spent years analyzing Killians’ schedule- so we planned to have agents posted to witness the assassination. But your impromptu party will throw that off. We’ll have to be making arrangements for FBI surveillance wherever you host this thing.”

        “At least you know when and where she’s doing it,” Tony scoffed. They seemed ungrateful.  _ And after all I’ve done for them!  _ he thought to himself. “I’ll send the full details on the gala later. If you will excuse me, I have to discuss with the city planner about the shelter.”

        He took off his wired Rolex and handed it to the agents. With that, Happy took that as his cue to leave and followed Stark back to the Rolls Royce.

        The criminal went to his usual seat in the back while his friend sat in the driver’s seat. Waving at the agents as the car pulled out of the lot, Tony sat back and relaxed for the journey back to the office.

        “You did well today, sir,” Happy said while looking in the rearview mirror, “The charity idea had caught the agents off guard, but I think it’s a pretty good idea.”

        “Thanks Hap,” Tony smiled, “Hopefully the city planner thinks so too.”

        Once he reached the Stark Industries tower, Tony went to his office straightaway. Pepper and the city planner were already there, drinking what looked like Tony’s scotch--something he usually did not let clients drink unless the deal was not closing the way he wanted. A little alcohol always messed with their inhibitions. Hopefully, Tony prayed, with a little alcohol and his way with words, the city planner would succumb to their wishes.

\- - - -

        “I’m glad we could reach an agreement, Ms. Lago,” Tony smiled as he rose from his seat to shake the woman’s hand. “I look forward to seeing you at the event this Thursday.”

        Pepper and Tony saw the city planner off, walking her to her car and discussing more casual topics. Since the deal was closed, the two found it fit to close the office for the day. Once she left, the criminal sighed in relief.

        “ _ God,  _ that was a lot harder than I thought.”

        His assistant laughed as she pat him on his shoulder. “You did great.”

        The two made their way to the Rolls Royce. Sitting in the back seat, the two talked while Happy drove them to their homes.

        “Thursday will be fun,” Tony muttered, “A lot will happen.”

        The redhead comfortingly replied, “Don’t blame yourself for what’s going to happen, Tony.”

        “How can I not? I’m literally sending two people to their graves.”

        “A man who has taken thousands of girls away from their homes and a woman who has slaughtered God knows how many people? Tony...I think that’s a win.”

        He grumbled unenthusiastically. “I still don’t want it to be my fault that they died.”

        “You did what you had to. You had no choice.”

        Happy pulled up to Pepper’s driveway and she gave her friend a hug.

        “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

        “Yes...that will be all, Miss Potts.”

* * *

 

        Thursday morning, Tony Stark woke up in a cold sweat. Today was the day that he would be landing the arrest of the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. It was also the day of his charity event to fund a new homeless shelter in an abandoned hotel lot. His assistant had invited everyone that had at least half a million to their name and even some Hollywood stars. However, the star of the show would be Aldrich Killian. Luckily, the man had RSVP’d that he would be attending.

        Tony got dressed in his favorite suit, wore his favorite tie, chose his nicest socks, and picked his cleanest shoes. Finally, to finish the look, he picked his signature sunglasses and made his way out to the Rolls Royce which already had Pepper inside.

        Happy opened the door for him and said, “Mornin’ sir.”

        “Morning Happy, ready for the big day?”

        “Of course!”

        He sat down in the Rolls Royce and Pepper handed him a brown paper bag labeled “BURGER KING.” Tony opened it up and inside was his favorite breakfast sandwich with an orange juice. He smiled at his assistant as he chomped down on his meal and chugged his OJ. Pepper instead ate grapefruit and drank coffee.

        The rest of the drive was silent, and no one spoke until they pulled up to the side of the building where they were hosting the event. It was an old, three-story Stark warehouse that was mostly used as a venue to host events similar to the one Tony was hosting today.

        “I redesigned the interior to include the eight bedrooms, Mr. Stark,” Pepper said.

        Although it was peculiar to an outsider, it was not strange at all for common attendees of Stark events. Most of the time, event goers would end up blacked-out drunk, sleeping with a person they met, or too tired from partying to get themselves home. For those who were unfortunate enough to pass out before they got home and/or did not want to flag a taxi in fear of bad press for sleeping around, being piss drunk, or partying so hard, the rooms were dedicated to them.

        “Did the Bureau do whatever the Hell they needed to?”

        “Yes sir,” Happy answered, “They placed surveillance all around the building. Wiretaps, hidden cameras...the works. All with a warrant, of course.”

        “Cool cool,” Tony nodded, “Will they be coming tonight?”

        “Yes sir, Agent Rogers, Barnes, and Maximoff all intend on making an appearance tonight. They will arrest her on the spot after it happens.”

        “Great. I guess we just sit back and relax, huh?”

        Pepper chuckled as she shook her head. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to be the center of attention to divert the eyes from Romanoff and Killian.”

        She knew Tony had no problem doing that.

* * *

 

        The gala started at six in the evening but picked up around eight. The room was filled with chatter, orchestral music, and an auctioneer bidding off celebrities’ belongings. It was a successful charity event, and Tony was proud of his assistant for being able to put together such a night with just a few days’ notice. When he passed Pepper trying to reach the open bar, he muttered into her ear, “Give yourself a raise, Pep,” to which she joked, “Already did.”

        Standing at the open bar, nursing a glass of his usual drink, Tony talked to a few guests before Steve Rogers came up to him. He ordered a drink, just a regular beer, and spoke to the bartender for a moment. After receiving his drink, he murmured to Tony, “She’s talking to Aldrich.”

        The criminal’s body tensed as he turned to look at the room before him. Sure enough, Black Widow was speaking to Aldrich Killian. She was dressed in a stunning black gown with long sleeves. It was clear that she was flirting with him- even from afar. Her suggestive gestures and seemingly-carefree laughs sat well with Killian’s ego, and soon enough, Tony and Steve watched the two walk further back to sit and talk in a more secluded area.

        “Do you think she’ll do it right there in public?” Agent Barnes said, coming up to stand alongside Tony and Steve. He poked at his teeth with a toothpick as he tapped his empty shot glass. Agent Rogers looked down at the drink and chuckled.

        “Bucky, you’ve done your homework, haven’t you?”

_         So...that’s his name,  _ Tony thought to himself. The entire time he had referred to Agent Barnes as...well, Agent Barnes. He never really cared for the other, so knowing his name was not of much importance.

        “Yeah, Steve, but c’mon. She’s getting a big paycheck this time.”

        “And jail time, forever.”

        “Okay, you got me there.”

        Tony decided that the conversation was a little too friendly for his tastes and stepped away. They would call him when they needed him. He waved them off and tried to find someone else to talk to.

        Of course, Pepper had clairvoyance as Tony’s assistant to be telepathic, and she noticed him walking around like a lost puppy. Leaving her conversation with Happy, she walked up to him.

        “Bored?” she asked.

        “Nervous,” Tony admitted, “She’s going to do it soon.”

        Pepper’s eyes grew wide. “You’ll have to give a speech then.”

        “Yeah,” he murmured, “Once I get the signal. They’re at the bar.”

        His assistant glanced at the bar and then noticed Bucky and Steve staring at them.

        “Like...them staring at you?”

        Tony looked over and groaned before handing his drink to Pepper.

        “I guess so.”

        The criminal made his way to the front of the ballroom, where the musicians played. He whispered something inaudible into the conductor’s ear and was handed a microphone. He tapped on the windscreen a few times and the hall ceased its chatter.

        “Welcome--thanks for coming out tonight,” Tony beamed, “You all are supporting a great cause.”

        He looked around the room, saw a few familiar faces, and noticed Natasha leading Aldrich by the hand to a separate room. Agent Maximoff was already walking after her.

        “There is...sadly, always a need for more homeless shelters in New York,” Tony continued, “And today, you all are helping raise money for one more shelter. Stark Industries has already built three across Manhattan, so why not a fourth?” Cheers erupted around the room.

        The criminal made his speech as Bucky and Steve made their way to Romanoff’s room. Just after, the doors to the building were broken down- the action caused panic to erupt within the crowd.

        “Freeze! FBI! Put your hands in the air!” Some tried to flee as the agents apprehended them. Pepper, Happy, and the agents that Tony worked with were nowhere in sight. However, this time, Tony knew he did not have to worry about being caught. This bust was not for him.

        Federal agents swarmed the room as guests were forced to stay within the building. Photographs of the warehouse and guests were taken. Aldrich Killian was the reason for the bust- that was what agents told the guests- because they had probable reason to suspect he ran a sex-trafficking ring. After three hours, they were finally released and Stark apologized to each one of the guests individually as they exited.

        After all of the guests left, Tony saw Natasha Romanoff walk out of the room with Agent Rogers and Barnes as he sat at the bar with Pepper. Four Bureau agents followed them, carrying a black body bag. He swallowed hard- he knew what was inside.

        “You did what you had to do,” Pepper reminded him quietly.

        As he stared at the hitwoman, he was shocked when she made eye contact with him. Her piercing glare sent shivers down his spine. It sent a message to him: she was not done with him. Tony crossed his arms in dismay and looked away. He reminded himself that he need not be scared; Natasha Romanoff would be in prison. She could not pose a threat to him in jail.

        His assistant rubbed his back and gave him a tight hug.

        “I’m proud of you, Tony,” she praised, “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! `7`)/
> 
> Some people have sent me DMs asking about the Stony progression within this fic- I guarantee you, it will come! Next chapter. :^)
> 
> me: ok we will make this chapter short  
> also me: okay let's just make it nearly 5k words
> 
> \--
> 
> Story info: Updated twice a month, always beta-read, not taking requests  
> Chapter title reference: A stolen/lost painting by Rubens. I believe it has been recovered.  
> My editor: [Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonhelo)  
> I wouldn't have been able to write this without my great editor, Claire. I'm also indebted to Gillian, my beta reader! I'm forever thankful for their help.
> 
> I take fanfiction requests, prompts, etc. on my [Twitter.](http://twitter.com/nidavellir_) I'm currently writing a movie script AU for Hope/Scott (AMATW). If you're interested in that film, check out the AU! It'll be moved to AO3 once it's completed. :)
> 
> If you liked the chapter, [check it out on Tumblr as well.](http://aucarus.tumblr.com/fics) Reblog and like the post, so the fic gains more exposure! (And follow me, while you're at it.)


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